As I write this, I’m sitting in a waiting room at Children’s Hospital. Many people have gone in and out the door, looking for their child’s number on a screen to track the progress of their procedure. They are all ages and races and nationalities. Bald heads. IV’s. Oxygen. Wheelchairs. Some are local, and some have traveled across the country to seek out the medical expertise offered here. They may look different or come from different situations, but all have one thing in common.

The look.

You can see it in their eyes. It’s that of anxious expectation. Everyone has questions rolling around in their mind. Will the news be good or bad? What will be the diagnosis? The test results? The post-surgery struggles? Will this procedure work? Will there be a lifestyle change? What are the long-term effects? How will the news we are about to hear change our lives? Will our child be okay?

Everyone is seeking answers. A way to make things better. A way to end the pain.

The heartbreaking reality is that many will get answers they never wanted to hear. The doctors don’t know how to make it better. Their child will battle this for the rest of their lives. There is no cure. It’s terminal. The insurance won’t pay.

What do you even do with that information?

News like that is difficult to process for anyone, but even more so when it’s about a child. Especially when it’s your child. You know how to apply a Band-Aid when they fall off their bike, or give them extra snuggles when a friend hurts their feelings. You know how to sing them to sleep after a bad dream or hold their hand to keep them safe crossing the road. You know how to coax them to eat the broccoli on their plate or pick up the toys on their bedroom floor.

But you can’t fix this. You don’t know how to coax them to sit in one more doctor’s office for another procedure that might be painful and may not even work. This is stuff you don’t see in the parenting books.

It’s true that there are some proverbial waiting rooms in life that are fun to be in, such as waiting for the arrival of a new baby. Waiting for graduation, or for your bride to walk down the aisle. Waiting to close on a new home, or to get that degree or promotion. Waiting to go on that trip after retirement.

But then, there are other kinds, like this one. Like when you are waiting to see if your number is called for the lay-off. Or to view the exam scores that will determine the path of your future. Maybe you are waiting to sign the papers. Or for Hospice to let everyone know that it’s time.

It seems like those things always happen to other people. Not you. But eventually, that person will be you. When auto-pilot kicks in and you have no idea how you got through the day. You just do.

Inevitably, the same question comes to most everyone’s mind. Why does God let good people suffer? Especially a child who has done nothing to deserve something so horrible? It’s just not fair.

As I watched one more set of emotionally exhausted parents leave our waiting room, those very thoughts were agonizing me. Then I remembered something. Even Jesus suffered. He didn’t deserve it, either. Why did God allow that to happen?

I think it’s because Jesus was ushering in a way for us to be able to leave this broken world and get to heaven, where everyone is praising God, and there is no sickness and pain or disease or trauma or broken hearts. We have to remember that this is not heaven. This is earth. Sometimes we comingle the two and expect earth to be like heaven. But here in this shattered world, God never promised things would be easy. We like to project that on him, but it’s just not the case.

However, he did promise that he will be right beside as we endure the hardships. (Deuteronomy 31:8) That he will give us peace. (John 16:33) That he will comfort us. (Matthew 5:4) That his grace will be sufficient. (2 Corinthians 12:9) And, “The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” (1Peter 5:10)

Sitting here in this waiting room is scary.

Yet, knowing God is waiting with me is like being wrapped in a blanket of peace.

I try to remember that his purpose for creating each of us isn’t to see how much wealth we can accumulate, or how comfortable we can be, or how far we can climb up the social ladder. He wants us to love him, and love others. Right where we are. For better or for worse. In sickness and in health. Even in the middle of the really

difficult waiting rooms. Until death promotes us to that perfect place, united with Christ for eternity.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

Have a blessed week, friends!